


Hephaestus Roast

by Pandaphin



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Coffee Shop, F/M, because let's be honest I can't do much better than that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6728458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandaphin/pseuds/Pandaphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a coffee shop.<br/>Doug Eiffel is working there.<br/>Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this chapter is just a little introduction to something I have in the works. Doesn't give much away, doesn't have very much content, but sets the scene ready for me to dive in to it. I plan to eventually get this planned ahead, so if I get to the point where I can update regularly, I'll be sure to let you know.
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> 20/05/2016  
> EDIT: Next chapter has been outlined and writing has begun. Eyes open, it's coming around soon! (And by soon I mean maybe probably in the next few weeks)

"This is the audio log of Dougl – ah, _Intern_ Douglas Eiffel, coming to you live from the 'Hephaestus Roast' Coffee Shop break room. I can't believe the employment office is making me record one of these every. Single. Day."  Doug sighed, placing the small personal recording device on the table in front of him. It was his first day at a new job; a situation which he was well acquainted with, having flitted from job to job for several months.

"So yeah, audio log. I really don't know what to say. I guess I just have to... talk to myself?" He ran his hand through his hair, taking a quick glance around the room, "All right. I can do that. Let's see here..."

Papers were strewn across the table as Doug absently searched through them, eventually producing a hastily scrawled sticky note, "Ah, here we go! So turns out the employment office have come up with this really innovative new system of passing contract information along. Just write the important stuff in bullet point form on a sticky note. Apparently it's because somebody was slacking off and not reading the full document. The _nerve_ of it!" Doug checked his watch, tapped the recorder for good measure and cleared his throat.

"So, according to the new, abridged sticky note document: 'You are required to complete the following daily.' Daily? They're trying to dictate my entire life here! 'One. Record an audio log of your day to day activities.' Huh. I wonder what for. I mean, it's not like I'm doing any ground breaking work here, it's just a small town coffee shop. 'Two. Complete any and all tasks given to you by the staff to the best of, and beyond, your ability.' Beyond my ability?"

The creak of a door echoed through the empty break room, causing Doug to stand up suddenly, bashing his knee as he stood.

" _Eiffel!_ You were supposed to be recording that audio log!" the voice belonged to a taller woman, her red hair bundled into a bun and tucked away behind a hairnet. Deep green eyes stood out against her sepia skin. She was carrying a cardboard box filled with disposable coffee cups on one hip and resting her free hand on the other, "And what in the world is all this mess?"

"Ah! Minkowski!" Doug began to frantically gather up his discarded pieces of paper, while still hopping on one leg, "I was recording – still am actually."

"That's funny," Minkowski feigned an interested look, "I don't recall Olympic hopping to be part of the recording process."

"No, look you – I – hold on," Doug stammered, clutching several pieces of now crumpled paper.

"I don't care! Finish your hopping, then hop to work!" Minkowski turned on her heel, pulling the door shut with just a little more force than necessary.

Grumbling, Doug let the papers drop back on the table. He picked up the recorder and contemplated it briefly before continuing. "Well, I dunno if you could hear that. That tornado of a woman was my new boss. I can tell that she and I are going to get along just marvellously, it's going to be drinks after work every other day, just let me work my charm."

Silence fills the room as the disgruntled intern begins to sift through his pile of papers, "Oh, good. And now I've lost my sticky note. I mean, my simplified contract. Mr. C is gonna kill me for this."

The break room's door flew open once more, causing Doug to bash his other knee on table, this time sending papers flying all over the floor.

" _Eiffel!_ "

"Ah! Coming, I'm coming!" Doug grabbed the recorder as he scooped up his papers for the second time, "Well, I guess that's it from me for now. This is Intern Doug Eiffel, signing off! Wish me luck."


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work truly begins

A flurry of movement and the aromatic smell of fresh coffee greeted Doug as he sheepishly crept through the break room door. Minkowski was dashing from cupboard to display case, moving small snacks and displays back to their rightful places.

This was the first time Doug had actually seen the storefront, having never been inside himself. The shop was small, but there seemed to be space to accommodate a larger number of customers than one would expect. The morning light wafted in through large windows, kissing the pale red walls and generic, artsy paintings lifted straight from the background of a budget television show. Numbered booths lined these walls; seats padded with plump down, held within a darker red fabric. More tables, each with their own number, dotted the shop floor, away from the walls – plain wooden tables, with equally plain chairs. The occasional faint stain dotted the tables and the hard wooden floor; they looked as though they were neither leaving nor paying rent.

The countertop was dark enough to hide any spills made during the morning coffee rush. Along the counter were several machines unknown to Doug, who could assume they did something… coffee related. Further along, the counter met a display cabinet, filled with small biscuits and cakes, just enough to mix in their sweet smells with that of the coffee. The cash register at the far end of the counter seemed old, in comparison to the modern machines that did coffee related somethings.

The walls behind the counter were lined with chalkboard menus, hastily scrawled on with white chalk and forgotten about, save for a few additions here and there. One fresher looking chalkboard caught Doug’s eye – “Coming Soon: Something” it read.

“I hope this ‘Something’ isn’t too much harder to whip up than an instant coffee,” Doug grumbled, “Some of these names don’t even sound like coffees. I mean, c’mon, who comes up with the name Oolong, anyway?”

“Eiffel, glad to see you’ve _finally_ finished your little monologue,” Minkowski removed her head from the display, finally finished with the morning’s preparations. “Oolong is a Chinese tea, by the way. But you don’t need to worry about that, you’ll just be working on the register for now.”

“The register? Is that all? I mean, I most certainly am the one for job. Handsome, charismatic…”

“Unnecessarily talkative,” Minkowski offered.

“Unnecessarily talkative, yes, thank you,” Doug flashed her a sarcastic grin, “But wouldn’t you rather have me help a little bit more than just doing your mental maths for you?”

“Well, if you can make a vanilla latte, no sugar, no fat, no foam, extra hot and oh, decaf too then you’re welcome to man the machines,” Minkowski raised her eyebrows, a smile touching the corner of her lips, “Or was your performance earlier some kind of ancient barista knowledge ritual I don’t know of?”

“Uh, y’know, working the register seems great! Nothing like a bit of mental maths to get you going the mornings!”

“That’s what I thought.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Eiffel, grab me some tape or something, would you?”

Minkowski’s call was muffled by the break room door separating her and Doug, who was gathering the few things he’d brought him ready to leave for the day.

The shop had been almost empty for the entire day. Doug served a grand total of two customers, a couple of older women who ordered cakes and sat in one of the booths whispering and giggling between themselves.

This, of course, didn’t stop Minkowski from keeping him busy. In addition to a full clean of the counter, Doug had also taken stock of their supplies, learned the _exact_ way in which the displays were to be arranged in the mornings, memorised the delivery schedule of baked goods and their opening times, including all public holiday opening times.

Doug also got the privilege of learning how to make each and every coffee listed on the menu. In a stressful and, honestly, unnecessarily tortuous endeavour, Minkowski had also timed him on his preparation time. Needless to say, this left Doug with more coffee on himself than anywhere else.

Doug was tired and confused, but nonetheless felt rather proud of himself. The thought of a steady job danced in the corners of his mind as he pulled open drawers, searching for tape.

“Eiffel, a response would be great, y’know,” Minkowski came through the door, a piece of paper with large writing in her hand.

“Ah, sorry boss,” Doug slammed the last drawer shut, visibly defeated, “Uh, I don’t know about you, but I have no idea where you keep _anything_ in here.”

Minkowski was visibly confused, one eyebrow raised, “You checked all the drawers?”

“Yeah, there’s just junk in there,” Doug pulled open a drawer to prove his point, pens and drawing pins rolling about inside as he did.

Minkowski strode over, taking out her hair net as she did. Doug couldn’t help but notice how her sharp features had seemed to relax as the day came to a close; evidently she was a woman who meant business. With her red hair framing her face, she almost looked like a different person.

After a few minutes of searching, Minkowski had made several piles of disgruntled looking junk, pulled out three drawers and was working her way through the fourth.

“Uh, boss?” Doug ventured, “Can I – um, can I go home now?”

Minkowski made some absent minded affirmative noises, still engrossed in her search for the missing tape.

“Okaaaay, I guess I’ll… see you tomorrow, then?”

More affirming sounds.

With a little huff, Doug grabbed the last of his papers – of which none were in order – and began through the staff exit at the back of the break room, and his freedom for the evening.

“Oh, Doug! One last thing!”

Wincing, Doug stopped in the doorway, “As long as it’s not any overtime, go ahead.”

“We were bought out by a large company a while back, and they’re sending one of their own here. He’s supposed to be able to come up with something to boost our sales,” the sneer could almost be heard in her voice, “Not that it’ll happen quickly. Anyway, he’s arriving tomorrow, so I need to represent the shop as best you can, okay?”

“Oh, sure, easy stuff,” Doug waved over his shoulder, eager to leave for home, “Sounds super interesting boss, but I really gotta get home. My, uh, cat needs to be let out.”

“Uh huh,”Minkowski returned to her search with a small, amused smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, yay! Sorry this chapter is still very much filled with exposition, but it shouldn't be too long before this gets to the thick of the plot.  
> Chapter 3 already in the works, first arc semi planned!


End file.
